"Continue, then, my worthy friend—I am all ears."
"Well," said the guide, "it will, perhaps, be better so."
"Go on, then—speak; I attend to you."
The personage to whom the Babbler gave the terrible Indian name of Waktehno was a man of pure white race, thirty years of age, of lofty stature, and well proportioned, handsome in appearance, and wearing with a certain dashing carelessness the picturesque costume of the wood rangers. His features were noble, strongly marked, and impressed with that loyal and haughty expression so often met with among men accustomed to the rude, free life of the prairies.
He fixed his large, black, brilliant eyes upon the Babbler, a mysterious smile curled his lips, and he leant carelessly upon his rifle whilst listening to the guide.
"If I cause the people I am paid to escort and conduct to fall into your hands, you may depend upon it I will not do so unless I am amply recompensed," said the bandit.
"That is but fair," Kennedy remarked; "and the captain is ready to assure your being so recompensed."
"Yes," said the other, nodding his head in sign of agreement.
"Very well," the guide resumed. "But what will be my recompense?"
"What do you ask?" the captain said. "We must know what your conditions are before we agree to satisfy them."